


On Golden Sands

by laSamtyr



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5458760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laSamtyr/pseuds/laSamtyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two old friends reminisce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Golden Sands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keiliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiliss/gifts).



> Thank you to: kalysobean for patient and tireless beta work. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Please note: I changed the title on 1/2/16 to "On Golden Sands". All else remains the same.

Erestor moved slowly, pausing to open the door to the great library of Imladris. It was empty now, or nearly so. The last boxes of books had been packed and sent along to Cirdan, where they would be loaded onto one of the ships. As he walked in, he noticed that even the curtains had been removed. He stepped up to the windows, and as he ran his fingers over the cool leaded glass, he idly wondered how long they would remain intact. It didn’t matter, he supposed, but he still hated the idea of their eventual decay and destruction.

All that remained was a chess set that laid open on his writing desk, waiting for players to come along. A light tap on the door made him turn around though.

“Everyone thought you were naught but a quiet, shy advisor,” Glorfindel smiled in amusement as he walked into the room carrying two bottles of wine. He paused by the desk to study the board. “How little they knew.”

“Indeed.” Erestor smirked at him as he withdrew two glasses from a shelf under the desk. “Just as so many saw you as a big and dumb oaf. Strange that they never seemed to question how one could become a respected commander, isn’t it?”

“But it was a role that suited my purposes, just as yours did for you.” Glorfindel grinned. “We fooled so many.”

“Elrond wasn’t fooled though. Nor was Gil-galad.”

“True.”

Glorfindel wiped out the two glasses while Erestor opened a bottle of wine, peering closely at the label.

“Dorwinion? I thought it was sent ahead.”

“It was. But Thranduil sent a quarter-case separate for the journey itself.”

“Did he now? Was there another message?” Erestor sipped at the wine, savoring the fine vintage. 

“No, he didn’t send one.” Glorfindel looked away. “I rather wish he had. He is so much like his father… I often wonder how he will manage since Legolas sailed.”

“Hmm.” Erestor studied the board, his hand hovering over a pawn. “Do you know if Celeborn plans to sail now?”

“The boys are waiting to hear from him,” Glorfindel replied. “But they will be leaving with us, regardless.”

“That is good to know.” Erestor said as he picked up his wine and sipped. “What is it, Glorfindel?”

“Have you heard from Maglor yet?”

“No. When I sent Elrond’s letter to him, I didn’t expect receive a reply. Now that Gildor has returned with others from Harad -- well, I had hoped for a message of some sort.”

“Perhaps he still wanders along the sea.”

“Not likely.” Erestor smiled tiredly. “Oh, it is true he did wander the shore for a time. You know, I like to think it helped him in some ways. He never had the sea-longing though and when I heard from him last, he said he intended to explore Arda and discover her (Arda’s) other treasures.”

“Like Tinnu?” Glorfindel queried as the lithe _wichianmat_ leaped on Erestor’s lap and began to purr, closing her eyes in contentment. “I assume our game is over now?”

“Yes, like Tinnu.” Erestor smiled as he began to stroke the furry head. “My mind is hardly on the game anyhow.”

“What is on your mind then?” Glorfindel asked, curious. It was unlike Erestor to be so distracted.

“Everything and nothing,” the dark elf replied, shrugging his shoulders in a quick dismissive movement. “You know how it is.”

“I do indeed.” Glorfindel sat back in the chair and stretched his legs out. “Come, let us trade stories.”

“Stories?” Erestor replied. “Such as…?”

“Stories about people we should have known better.” There was an oddly wistful note in Glorfindel’s voice. “So many are Waiting…”

“Let us speak of them outside then.” Erestor replied as he rose from his chair and walked through the doors that led to the gardens. “I need to check on some of the plants we are taking along. Come, I will start. You heard that I was Caranthir’s tutor, did you not?” 

“I’ve always been curious about that part,” Glorfindel admitted as they went down the broad steps that led to the gardens. “Finwё was very welcoming to everyone, regardless of their clan, much more than his eldest son. Fёanor was – reserved. When it became known Fёanor had allowed you to stay on with the family, the court could talk of little else for several months.”

“It was really very simple.” Erestor gave Glorfindel an oddly cheeky grin. “Finwё wanted to design a flower maze for Nerdanel. He heard she was exhausted by having twins and he thought such a maze might cheer her up.”

“Really?” Glorfindel looked surprised. “I didn’t know you designed landscapes.”

“Strictly speaking, I didn’t. I was a mere apprentice and I was sent to look over the grounds to suggest the best placement for one and make some preliminary sketches.”

“Even so, I am surprised that Fёanor was so… so…” Glorfindel floundered for a few moments.

“Tolerant of a stranger?” Erestor replied. “It was easy and not just because Finwё had sent me. Once Fёanor knew that my mother and his had been close friends, he granted me permission to stay.”

Erestor chuckled to himself as he remembered riding to Fёanor’s estate. The grounds were broad and expansive, so his job seemed easy: to choose a site and make a few rough sketches. What made him nervous was that he didn’t know what kind of welcome to expect from the dynamic crown prince, the first-born heir to the House of Finwё. Fёanor was famous for his instant decisions and he very seldom (if ever) changed his mind.

“It was Caranthir who greeted me at the door and saw that I was comfortable before he left to find his father. Fёanor himself said little to me; once he learned of my errand, he bid Caranthir to show me around the grounds. I saw at once that Carathir had an excellent grasp of what would be needed for the project. It was second nature to him…”

Erestor paused, remembering how the court gossips had spoken of Caranthir being sullen and angry and later, his refusal many of the cook’s finest dishes for no other reason than they contained meat. Later, it was rumored that he had no talent for music but Erestor wondered if he had no interest in competing against Maglor. Maglor had been the friendliest of the brothers and often stopped to eat lunch with them, making pleasant conversation while playing a small harp. 

Fёanor said little about the project but took a sharp interest in its progress. It was obvious that he noticed Caranthir’s interest in the work and how happy he seemed, for he later spoke to Erestor about remaining on after it was finished and continuing to teach Caranthir. Erestor had been happy to do so and he often thought that Fёanor seemed more relaxed now that his fourth son seemed to have found his own niche.

“I like to think that I was Caranthir’s friend as well but I imagine that Fёanor felt a need to save face, so he claimed that I was hired as a tutor. It was hard for him as a father to admit that another might understand his son better than the family. Especially, I think, when the older ones were so outstanding. Caranthir was gifted too – it’s just that his gift was less – showy. I discovered that he was fascinated with gardening. Luckily, I had already learned from the best mentor possible – my mother.” Erestor paused briefly to sip at the last of the wine. He noticed that Tinnu had become fascinated by a patch of shade under a nearby oak and he imagined that he caught a glimpse of silver eyes before they disappeared. Or perhaps it was mere wishful thinking.

“Let’s go in, shall we?” Glorfindel said as he studied the sky. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yes, tomorrow will be even longer if I am to finish packing the last of the roses.”

“I can help you pack them. I do have some skill with packing things, you know.”

“Yes, you do. And with a little luck the twins will have heard from Celeborn so we can finally start.”

 

They walked back inside, careful to leave the doors unlatched and the other bottle of wine on the desk beside the abandoned game. It wouldn’t do to lock out any guest, and Maglor had always hated saying goodbye. 

 

xxxEndxxx

**Author's Note:**

> Siamese cats, known also as Wichianmat, meaning "moon diamond".


End file.
